


Not a Tropical Adventure

by i_claudia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-10
Updated: 2010-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-10 17:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_claudia/pseuds/i_claudia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus wiggles his toes in his shoes, tucks his fingers more firmly into his armpits, and wonders if people freezing to death in train stations is a common occurrence in Finland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Tropical Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ [here](http://i-claudia.livejournal.com/59782.html#cutid2). (10 October 2010)

Remus wiggles his toes in his shoes, tucks his fingers more firmly into his armpits, and wonders if people freezing to death in train stations is a common occurrence in Finland. He figures it probably is, judging by the utter lack of anyone else at the station, which only makes him feel more surly and ill-used.

Sirius is a dog, and has a thick fur coat, and is all too clearly scornful of Remus’ feeble human reaction to the falling snow. He butts at Remus’ knees again, hard, and when Remus scowls down at him he capers away before leaping around and lowering the front half of his body, wagging his tail madly: a clear invitation to play.

“No,” Remus tells him, stern, but that only makes Sirius wag harder. “Sirius, can you at least _pretend_ to care that I have been up all night and have dropped this trunk of books on my toes three times and am freezing to death?”

Sirius shakes his head until his ears flop, and bounds forward so suddenly Remus doesn’t have a chance to run. They go tumbling head over tail and furry paws, a flailing mass of limbs and unfortunately sharp claws, and Remus bangs both his elbows and ends up sprawled on the ground with Sirius’ cold, wet, snuffly nose sort of shoved in his ear.

“Glerck,” Remus says, struggling, and Sirius turns back into a man.

In some ways, this is far nicer. Instead of claws digging into Remus’ stomach and fur in his mouth, he has Sirius draped warm and a little bit lovely over him. The downside is that Sirius has jabby elbows no matter what form he takes, and his nose is still freezing cold where it’s pressed up against Remus’ neck. Remus pushes at him again uselessly and tries to remember where he’d stashed his wand—though hexing Sirius usually only makes it more of a game to him.

“You have no sense of adventure,” Sirius tells him sternly, looking betrayed. Remus rolls his eyes, ready to deliver the familiar monologue about how living for too many years with entirely untrustworthy people like Sirius means he has a very highly developed sense of adventure, thank you, and an equally keen sense of _self-preservation_ , but Sirius interrupts him with a kiss before he starts. Sirius, Remus reflects, has never held much with self-preservation.

“Live a little, Moony,” Sirius whispers, pulling away, his lips brushing the very tip of Remus’ nose, and Remus feels a little—not much, he’s still worried about those national winter train station death statistics—a little warmer.


End file.
